Keep Her
by MilkMamaReturns
Summary: A Cam-Centric Tale. It's 1994 and Cam is remembering her childhood, trying to get her life back on track after her mother's death, and getting her life back in order. It doesn't take long before she meets Seeley Booth and her life changes for the better.
1. Chapter 1

**Keep Her **

**Part I**

_L__ord keep her safe since you can't keep her sane.--Gloria Naylor_

"Here's the paperwork you requested, Officer Saroyan." A large man walked up to her. The vertical stripes of his shirt didn't help his volume to appear any less and the buttons that held the two pieces of cloth together seemed to be so strained that Cam was almost afraid that one of the white plastic discs would shoot across the room and nail her between the eyes if she wasn't careful.

Cam took the paperwork in her hands, "Thanks, Tom." She began to thumb through the paperwork, skipping to the good parts--the fascinating parts. Homicide had always fascinated her to some extent, but after her mother was killed by a drunk driver, her interest had been piqued.

The opening line snapped her from the present: "The victim died from blunt trauma to the chest--" Stacy Wheeler, sixteen and full of life, had driven down 99 with three friends and dreams on their shoulders. Driving on the same side of the road in the opposite direction was David Saunders. David, full of booze and escaping from a pissed off girlfriend's verbal barrage, was too drunk to know that seconds later, he would end the lives of three of those teens and himself.

Cam was the first officer on scene.

Her feet hit the pavement, stones crunched beneath her feet. The headlights glowed eerily on the pavement. A low hum of the motor rumbled in her ears.

She took out her flashlight and squatted beside the shattered, inverted passenger side window. "Is anybody conscious?"

A low moan from the teenager directly in front of her.

Cam set the flashlight on the hill, pointing the beam at the window where the teen was dangling from her shoulder belt. She knelt once again. "Can you move? Are you in pain?"

The girl put her hand to her forehead and sobbed.

Cam's radio buzzed. She put it to her lips, "Twenty-two nine-teen. There are four individuals in the vehicle. One is responsive. Sixteen year old female. Lacerating injuries to her arms. Mobile."

"Get me out..."

"It's best that you stay where you are for now. What's your name?"

"Grace."

"How old are you?" Trying to keep her calm.

"Seventeen. Why isn't Stacy moving?"

"The ambulance will be here in a second. Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Saturday, why?"

"What grade are you in, Grace?"

"I'm a junior..."

The ambulance screamed around the bend in the road. Paramedics tumbled out of the back and ran up to the vehicle.

"There's a conscious patient. Her name is Grace and she's seventeen."

The man nodded, internalizing the information and squatted beside the vehicle. "Can you squeeze my fingers, Grace?"

A fire truck pulled up behind the ambulance. A man ran up with the Jaws of Life in his hand and within minutes, Grace was on the stretcher while her friends were being examined.

Cam knew what she was going through. At twenty-two, not young, but not old, she had been through the same thing. It was spring break and she was in her fourth year at the University working toward an eventual doctorate. She drove home, fresh-faced and full of hope.

She stopped at a gas station and fed quarters into a phone booth.

"Hey, baby."

"Hi, Mom." Cam smiled, glad to hear her mother's voice again. "I stopped for gas. I'm in--" She searched for a sign. "Rosaryville--wherever that is..."

A gas station attendant walked by and winked at the pretty college co-ed. Cam rolled her eyes. Dream on, she thought.

"Good. You'll be home in time for dinner, then. Your granny's bringing over sweet potato pie and I'm making my famous roast..."

"With biscuits?" Cam began to imagine the feast.

"Uh..." Somewhere outside of DC, Cam's mother, full-figured and jovial, bent to look in the refrigerator. "No biscuits."

"Well, that's just not the same, " her daughter teased.

"I'll just have to run out and get some then. I'm just so excited that I'll finally be able to see you, Camille. I've been missing my baby girl."

Cam snorted. "What? Felicia hasn't been keeping you busy?"

"Busy?" Her mother sounded incredulous. "If Felicia brings another dead-beat low-life into this house, your father's going to have a heart attack. After how many times of taking out the proverbial shot-gun does it lose its luster?"

Cam shrugged, "I'm not sure, Mom. What are you--Up to a couple hundred now?"

Her mother laughed. "I think we're in the triple digits, Camille."

_Please insert twenty-five cents for thirty more minutes of talk time. _"Mom, I should probably get on the road now." She kissed the air in front of the phone."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I'm going out to get those biscuits."

"OK, Mom." Cam laughed, rolling her eyes, then hung up the phone.

Thirty minutes of road later, Cam pulled in front of her family's home. More cars than she had imagined were parked outside of the home. She began to imagine throngs of her family's church congregation coming just to taste her mother's famous roast and pretend to know her.

She got out of the car and walked up the walk. Her hand hit hte handle of the front door just as sobs from indoors hit her ears. She pushed the door open with curiosity. "Mom?" Something inside of her knew that something terrible had happened.

Felicia came into the hallway holding a tissue to her mouth. Tears streaked down her face, her eyes were the color of cherries. She ran into Cam's arms. Cam dropped her bags and wrapped her arms around her sister. "Felicia, what's going on? Where' s dad?"

"Mom... she's... she's dead!"

Disbelief.

Stunned.

Shocked.

No tears flowed. "What?" she whispered.

A knock on the door frame brought her back to the present date. One year after her mother died, but at least ten as far as change goes. After that, she never returned to college. She stayed close to DC and became an officer of the law, but always had the pathology dream on the back burner.

"Better get those forms filled out, or the Cap'n'll have your ass on a string, Saroyan." Tom laughed and walked off. One of his buddies patted his back. "Noobs," he chuckled.

* * *

_Leave me some love if you're interested... Well, actually I will keep writing whether or not you are, but I'm just curious. ;) I thought we should write a little divergence from the regular B/B fic... I know how much everyone loved **A Boy from Philly** which was about Booth's childhood... so here's one about Cam's._


	2. Chapter 2

**Keep Her **

**Part II**

That night, Cam unlocked her apartment door and let her long hair out of its tight pony tail. In the next room, she knew that her boyfriend, Eric, was sound asleep, so she tip-toed into the bathroom and showered. The silence was hardly enough to drown out the demons. It was hardly enough to drown out the sorrow, the pain, the memories, the guilt.

She closed her eyes, letting the hot water stream over her skin and achy muscles.

Every time her eyes shut, she was there. Twelve months to the day later and the pain was just as acute.

All she could think of when her crying sister held her close was... the biscuits. Her mother was dead and all she could think of was biscuits.

"H... how?" She breathed into Felicia's curls.

"Daddy said... it was a car wreck. Oh, G-d, Cam!" The words crumbled into incoherent sobs. And all Cam could think about was biscuits.

And one fact kept going through Cam's head. Again and again like a broken carousel. Gail Saroyan died because her daughter wanted biscuits.

Then the tears came. Hot and bitter, they came. And the worst part of all, they didn't come to mourn the loss of her mother, they came because of guilt. A terrible guilt that would reach so deep that it would change everything.

Cam shook her head wordlessly and pushed past her sister, leaving an astonished Felicia in the foyer and watching after her sister as she raced toward her childhood bedroom.

Later that evening, her sister, father, and several family members knocked silently at her door, then walked away as Cam would not answer. Nothing could fill that void. Nothing could remove that pain.

Cam turned off the hot water faucet and walked into the bedroom. Her boyfriend's long tanned arm stuck out of the sheets, fingers touching the floor, his face turned toward the window. So much had changed. Just a year had changed it all. Was she running from her pain? Dropping out of school, chasing after a dream that wasn't rightfully hers?

Cam grabbed her pillow and the blanket at the foot of the bed, then walked into the living room and curled up on the couch. No matter what, she could never run.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamed dreams of her mother. She had the best laugh, stunningly unusual green eyes, a knack for cooking just about anything you could wish for. It was a shock that her daughters weren't larger women, growing up with a mom like that.

The night after her mother died, Cam was sleeping at her desk when a floor board creaked. Cam sat up warily, "Felicia, get out--"

"Hey, baby girl." Gail walked over to her daughter and wiped her daughter's tear-stained face. "Don't cry, Camille. You know it breaks my heart when I see you cry."

Cam's laughter commingled with her tears. "Mom?"

"Don't you dare harbor any guilt over this, Camille." She smiled. "I know you, baby. I know you're feeling terrible about this, aren't you? It was just-- a chance in a million. I would've gone to the store anyway. We were out of toilet paper." She winked and ran her hand lovingly along Cam's hair. "It was painless," she whispered.

Cam reached up and touched her mother's hand. "Really?" Tears slid down her cheeks.

"Yes," she whispered again. "One minute I was thinking about your granny's pie, the next--the only thing I felt was such an amazing feeling of love and acceptance, total and complete calm." She smiled. "When people say they're in a better place, it's not just a cliche saying, baby girl." She reached for Cam's hand. "Listen, there's something I want to give you. If you look in my dresser, third drawer down behind my pink blouse-- Remember that necklace you wore to your first grade pictures?"

Cam laughed a little. "I thought I looked so beautiful."

"You always have, Camille. I want you to have it. It's not much, but it'll always remind you that I'm here," she touched her chest. "And I will always love you. You have always been my greatest advocate, the kind of woman I wanted to be. Strong and beautiful. I am so proud of you, Camille. So incredibly proud." She leaned down and kissed Cam's forehead. "Don't forget your dreams, baby girl."

She straightened and touched Cam's cheek once again.

Cam watched as her mother walked out of her bedroom.

A second later, she was standing in front of her mother's bureau. Third drawer. Behind the blouse. She reached behind it and grasped the cool metal. She knew that it was the very necklace her mother was talking about before it even hit the light. Cam held it in front of her. Light reflected from the tiny stones.

"Your mother wanted you to have that."

Cam turned at the voice. Her father, balding with a mustache, reached up and wiped his eyes with a cloth handkerchief. He walked toward Cam. "She always told me that if anything happened to her that you should have that. She knew you loved that thing," he smiled at the memory. "You were special to her, Camille. After your sister was still born, we almost gave up the notion of having another child altogether. Then along came Camille. Your mom and I were eating pop corn and watching Lucy reruns and at first I thought that Gail had just thrown popcorn at me, but it turns out that it was you--"

"Dad, I've heard this story--"

He walked toward her. "They said that it couldn't happen again. You were born into this world, nuchal cord and all, screaming your little lungs out. That defines you, Camille. You are a fighter. You are strong and such an amazing woman. Your mom knew that. You were so much stronger than she or your sister could or ever will be. This," he touched the necklace in Cam's hand, "is yours by birthright. It's yours because your mom wanted you to know how treasured you are to her." Tears slipped from his eyes and landed on his collar.

Cam and her father embraced. "Daddy... I'm so sorry."

"Gail was my best friend," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't know how I'm gonna do this without her."

"You will, Daddy. You will. You have us."

He nodded and turned toward the door. "Your mom was always so proud of you, Camille."

Cam's eyes opened. She sat up on the couch, stood, and walked toward the kitchen where she began to make a cup of tea. Nothing was the same. It never would be.

Her eyes settled on her work schedule that was stuck to the refrigerator with two magnets.

Dreams.

So much money had been drained from her education fund to pay for lawyer's and doctor's fees-- Becoming a pathologist was beyond anything she could ever wish for or dream for.

This was life.

Waking up at eight, working until seven. Issuing tickets. Coming home. Showering. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews! I wanted to write something a little different. Everyone writes the B/B Hookup tales. ;) Plus, Cam rocks IMO.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**"As you enter positions of trust and power, dream a little before you think."**

**Toni Morrison**

She sunk. It seemed that she had been doing a lot of sinking recently. This time, however, she was at the bottom of her shower stall, knees to her forehead, thick black hair streaking down her back and being pulled with the flow of the water to the drain.

Bon Jovi was turned up just loud enough that her sobs weren't heard on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Hun." Eric knocked a few times on the door. He was fastening a navy blue tie to his uniform. He knocked again. "Cam!"

She cleared her throat. "What?"

"I'm headin' out. See ya tonight?"

"Yeah."

The distance between the two was painfully clear at moments like these. With Cam naked and sitting on the floor of her shower, asserting that she was OK and that she did not want his comfort.

Eric shook his head in silence. "I'm dating Sunshine Bear." He snatched his holster and radio before walking out of the apartment. He locked up behind himself and immediately almost ran into a leggy young woman. "Cheryl."

"Eric... lookin' good." She smiled flirtatiously.

"You, too." He nodded at her, then jogged down the stairs. Cheryl stayed just long enough to see him disappear out of the building.

Cam reached for the water, turning the handle until it was only a drip. She wrapped a towel around herself, tying it between her breasts, then sat on the toilet seat. "Get it together."

Somehow she wondered how much longer it would take before things actually fell together the way she wanted.

*

The wind blew hair into her eyes. She pulled it back quickly into a pony tail, wound it around, then pinned it into a chignon. She had done that so many times that it was second nature. No need for a mirror.

She squatted beside the body.

"That's just..." Her partner swallowed hard, pushing back bile. Cam looked up. She'd never seen Tom look so... green. "I mean.... what in the hell happened to that guy? Looks like someone ran him over with a steam-roller."

"Yeah, well, when we track down Minnie Mouse, I'll use water torture until she tells us where Mickey's lair is."

"Good one, Cam. Listen, you mind if I--"

"Go..." Cam said. She rolled her eyes and watched until Tom was out of sight. He reached the top of the hill just as a black SUV pulled up.

Cam looked back down at the body. It definitely looked like a steam roller had run over the guy.

Little pebbles tumbled down the hill and began to pummel her Wellcos. She looked up and watched as a suited man walked down the hill.

"Woah, what in the _hell _happened to that guy?"

"That's what my partner asked. I think we've narrowed it down to a steam roller or a giant rolling pin." Cam smiled. "See where your tax dollars are going? Aren't you glad we're on the case? Well, _were_, now it's all yours, Agent--."

"Booth. And I'll make sure all of the giant rolling pins are rounded up. Just for you, Officer--" He read her name tag. "Saroyan."

"Ah. He's cute _and _he reads minds. Now I see why my boss sent for him."

Booth shrugged. "I had my palm read once. I still want my money back."

Cam brushed off her slacks. "Bad experience?"

"No... I was drunk as hell, so I don't remember a thing and a week later I had a weird skin infection--"

"Please. Don't go on. I haven't had lunch."

"And yet you were just standing over Aunt Jemima and not a flinch."

"What can I say? I'm just a girl who likes corpses."

Booth laughed. "Well... Guess we should get this--whatever it is-- back to... where ever it should go."

Booth's partner slid behind him and stopped beside Cam. "Wow. That's the nastiest thing I've ever seen and I've seen a _lot _of nasty things since working Homicide." He held a handkerchief over his nose.

"This is my partner, Special Agent Grieves. Kink, this is Officer Saroyan--"

"What, no clever nickname for her yet?"

"Hey, give me some credit. I don't nickname people 'til I've known them for a while--" Booth shined his charm smile Cam's way.

"You nickname me and you'll lose an inch. And I'm not talking about your height."

Kink sucked air through his teeth. "Don't mess with her, Seels."

"Seels?" Cam asked.

"It's short for Seeley, but you can call me Booth... and what's _Officer _short for?"

Cam smiled. "Cam, but you can call me Cam."

"Short for Camille?"

"Don't call me Camille." Cam's smile disappeared. Enough with the light flirting. She trudged up the hill.

"See ya later, Camille."

"See you later, _Seeley_."

Kink sucked in another breath then whispered to Booth, "Yowch. Right between the legs."

"Watch it, Kink."

Kink sunk to his haunches. He grimaced. "Should we ship it to the freaks at the Jeffersonian?"

"Can't imagine they'd get anything out of that."

"Yeah, but... they've got computers and stuff, right?"

Booth shrugged. He looked back up the hill. The streets were full of cruisers and bright lights. Bright yellow tape was criss-crossing the treeline at the top of the hill. Cam was no longer in sight.

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews!  
_

_-Mama  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Months Later..._

Felicia knocked on her sister's door. She shifted her weight to one hip, applied lip gloss in a tiny mirror and knocked again.

"Camille!" she chirped. "C'mon, Cam, open up!"

Cam appeared behind the door. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, her hair was pulled into a ponytail. She looked exhausted.

Felicia pushed her way into the door. "Wow. You get hit by a bat? I mean seriously, Cam. Maybelline called. They want their _before _picture back."

_Original_.

Cam rolled her eyes and walked into the living room where she had been curled up on the couch.

Felicia let her eyes roll over the apartment. "You seriously gotta get yourself outta this rut, Cam. I mean, _what_? It's been like a _month_, right?"

Cam laughed. "I'm just buried in school work, Felicia. It has nothing to do with Eric."

"That loser? He wouldn't know a good woman if she hit him in the face with a wet towel," Felicia muttered as she walked into Cam's bedroom.

For a moment, Cam didn't know what she should do. Follow her sister?

Cam got off from the couch and went into her bedroom. "What are you doing, Felicia?"

Her sister was busily digging through Cam's closet tossing dresses onto the bed. She held up a few to her own body, tossing them into a pile.

Cam shook her head at the total destruction of the only tidy room in the house. She began to pick up the dresses from the bed as fast as Felicia could throw them down. Felicia swatted her hands away, throwing the dresses back into the pile.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going out with me."

"I've got midterms at the end of this week, Felicia, there's no way--"

"What? You think that every time a hot stupid guy breaks up with you that you can suddenly bury yourself in more college? Honey, _please_. Life isn't about getting doctorates, Cam. It's about living _life_, having _fun _every once in a while, hooking up--" Felicia's large eyes were full of excitement over the prospect of teaching her sister how to 'live life' properly.

"I'm not going to do any hooking up."

"What? You'd rather stare at a laptop all night? This one's cute." She held up a very short red thing.

"I haven't worn that since I was twenty."

"Well, you're twenty-_one _tonight. Anyone asks, you're twenty-one. Old enough to get into the club--Oh this one's _hot_!" She held up a short black number.

Cam swiped it from her sister's hands, holding it against her body almost defensively.

"Put it on, Cam. You've got all week to fight crime and study for midterms or whatever. Tonight, you're going out with me."

"I don't think so--"

"For my birthday?"

Cam froze. "It's your birthday, isn't it? I'm so sorry--"

"If you go out with me, all's forgotten." Felicia flashed that patented puppy-dog-eye look.

Cam rolled her eyes. Going out with her sister was one thing. Going out and dealing with a drunk Felicia was a completely different thing altogether.

"Fine."

Felicia grinned. She even bounced a little. She always wore her hair curly. The curls jounced. "Yes! How about this one?" She grinned, mischievously, holding a teeny purple dress up.

Cam sighed. With a tight-lipped, annoyed look on her face, she took the dress from her sister. "Only because it's your birthday, otherwise you'd be out the door."

...

The deep base beat from the club could be heard, and _felt_, nearly two blocks away. Cam and Felicia walked among the late-night drinking and partying crowd to the club.

"_Daaaaaaaaaaamn_, Cam," Felicia whispered. "You look so fine."

Cam did not feel like wearing such a revealing dress. It fit great on her, she had only gained maybe two pounds since she last wore it--and mostly in the parts where it would _really _count--but she definitely felt more like wearing a sweatshirt.

"Now this is the part where you compliment me," Felicia snipped.

"You look fine, too, sis."

"Wow, Cam, that was heart-warming."

They filed in line.

"IDs please."

Felicia gave the bouncer both of their IDs.

"You twins?" He handed the IDs back.

"God no," Cam whispered.

"Do you want us to be?" Felicia replied, shooting the man an enticing look.

He grinned back. "You ladies can go right in."

"Thank you." More sexually-iced looks.

Cam tried to keep her eyes from rolling around her cranium.

Felicia shook it as they walked into the club. Every man within a ten foot perimeter of the women nodded approvingly. Some hollered. Others whistled.

"Dance with me!" Felicia yelled above the music.

"I really don't feel like--"

Her sister grabbed her by the hand, dragging her into the crowd. The music thudded in her head. How could anyone risk getting drunk in such a place? Talk about a trip.

Her sister was dancing, shaking her hair around, the gel loosening, the 'Fro growing larger with every wild toss of her head. She screamed with the crowd when they yelled out the repetitive line from the live Rap Artist.

I'd like to say that it didn't take long for Cam to get into it, but it actually _did_. She didn't like being around her sister that often. She loved her, yes, but the death of their mother made the women go in two very different directions. Cam delved into her work and her studies. Felicia partied hearty, dating men with money, picking up a class or two at the community college at her leisure.

The song ended with Felicia fanning herself. "It's hot!" She looked thoroughly blissed, smiling ear-to-ear.

"I'm going to get us some drinks," Cam offered. She really just wanted off from the crowded dance floor. Dozens of hot bodies slamming against hers. The floor was at least twenty degrees warmer than other places in the club.

"Get me some water!" Felicia turned and smiled at a man standing beside her. "I'm Felicia."

"Davis." He smiled.

Cam turned, ignoring that whole interaction and walked up the stairs, weaving between clubbers and people groping each other on the steps.

Finding the bar was simple. She followed the heard. She pushed between people and stood at the bar for several minutes before one of the bartenders noticed her. "What can I do for ya?"

"Two waters."

"Aquafina?"

She nodded.

The water was passed.

She took it into her hands as a man beside her asked for a scotch on the rocks or something to that extent.

She turned, running immediately into a tall man.

He smiled, recognizing her. "Camille."

"Cam," she corrected, rather irritated.

"This is my, um, brother Jared. Hey, Jared."

His brother turned, one hand holding the alcoholic beverage, the other extending. "Jared Booth."

Cam smiled, shaking hands with Booth's brother.

"You work with Seeley?" Jared asked.

"Cam's a cop," Booth told his brother.

"Nice. So I'm guessing you came along a nasty one? Had to pass it off to my brother here?"

"Something like that," Cam replied.

"You here alone?" Booth asked.

Cam rolled her eyes to the dance floor. "My sister dragged me out."

"_Dragged _you? Something tells me Cam Saroyan doesn't get _dragged_." Booth smiled. One of _those _smiles.

"It's her birthday. Otherwise, I'd be curled up on the couch with a glass of wine a textbook the size of Manhattan."

"Textbook? Going to school?"

"Long story short, yes." She sighed. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, _Seeley_. Jared, nice to meet you." She walked away, through the crowd, leaving the two men to watch her walk away.

"She single?" Jared asked, turning around toward the bar.

Booth took the seat beside him. "I dunno." He took a drink.

"A hot woman actually takes the time to talk to _you _and you don't even catch her status?" Jared laughed, shaking his head and lifting his drink to his lips.

"Call me crazy, but I'm not exactly on the _prowl_." Booth reached up his elbow, knocking Jared's drink just enough to slosh over the edges of the glass.

Jared laughed, pointing a free finger at his brother. "You keep it up and I'll--I'm too drunk to think of a good enough threat." He took a drink. "So how's Rebecca? Still treatin' you like shit?"

Booth glared at his brother. Without a word, he stood up and left the bar.

Jared turned on the seat, gesturing his innocence with a tumbler, "Fuckin' _touchy_, man!"

Booth walked through the crowds, down the steps, between the groping couples, the drunk and laughing people, the ones wiggling their butts erotically to the music, following the woman with the long dark hair. He caught up with her on the dance floor.

She was taking a drink of water and caught his eye as he walked up to her. "Can I help you?" she asked when she had swallowed.

"I dunno," he said, smiling-- _almost _flirtatiously. "You wanna go get a bite?"

She laughed sarcastically. "If it's sex you want, you should've either chosen someone who's drunk off their ass or waited until I've had a few. It's not like you don't have a lot of options." Booth followed her gaze to her drunk sister, laughing hysterically a few feet away.

"I don't want sex," Booth said.

"All men want sex."

"Not this man. I actually have a girlfriend--" He scrunched his face a bit. "Off an' on."

"Off an' on?"

"How about I save you the life story? Just say that I don't want sex, but I do want out of here. And from the looks of it, you're in the same boat."

Cam looked at her sister again. By then, Felicia was being pressed against a wall, her hands threading the man's hair, his hands squeezing her bare thigh, their lips attacking one another.

Cam put her water down on a nearby table, grabbed Booth's hand and dragged him back up the stairs and into the cool night.

--

_Thank you for the lovely reviews! =)_


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